Emerson As a Poet

y and with pensive force as we turn over the pages which contain the last offerings of so notable a poet. We feel that not simplyevery " wave," as the final line of the poet has it, butâ?? " Every line is charmed." But how little these pieces hint of either death or decay! The old vitality and vigor are both there. The same cheery hope, the old fresh surprise, the dewy morning chrism of youth, the electric shock, the uplifting spring, are all repeated and manifest. The breath of balm and solace still abundantly exhales. We still stop to ponder upon and thread with the mind's eye the broad vistas that only spread themselves out before the wand of this peerless enchanter. The familiar turn of thought, the mould which we can now almost foresee, stand out in them with unmistakable imprint. In calling these added verses in the post-humous and final edition of his poems new, I must add that they are only new inappearance, and are in reality, mainly old. I doubt if any couplet or line of them was written in recent years. The chief poemâ?? the one which opens the collectionâ??was begun as long ago as 1831, and for twenty years thereafter it received additions and modifications. With Mr. Emerson every thought had an individual, almost personal integrity. Thoughts came to him on the road and in his quiet walks. The air is so full of these creatures of the brain that he leaves the best book unread to entertain them. As one of his impressive passages, " Writte...